Betrayed [h.s.]

Chapter Four

How dare she tell me that. I understand that she wasn't exactly happy about me making a big deal out of her getting a new house, but seriously, she had to involve Zayn's.. death.

Having everyone tell me that is like having everyone tell you that Zayn is dead.

Her words repeat in my head and they make me want jump out of my car right now, as it is moving. My face is red with anger and my knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel so tight.

When I reach home I don't think about anything, but sleeping. Its been a long day.. well, night and tomorrow I have to meet Harry at the cafe at six in the morning.

***

5:30 rolls around pretty soon and I hurry to squeeze in a shower in fifteen minutes. The last fifteen minutes I spend straightening my hair and applying makeup.

I grab my bag and I'm about to walk out when I see Zayn's vase. It sits on top of my dresser surrounded by flowers and small cards. I walk up to it, my heart beating slowly, but loudly in my ears, tears threatening to spill. I place my hand on it and I can feel a certain entity, a small sorrow softly drumming against the steel. My heart swells with pain, anger and sadness.

Sometimes I feel like I'm not alone, like if he's still here.. with me. Not physically, but more as in a guiding way, making sure I'm fine. But what I don't understand is that I am anything but fine.

I recollect myself and close my bedroom door before going to my car and sliding in the driver seat. I meet Harry in the small cafe at around six twenty.

"Hey," Harry greets me with a small smile.

"Hi," I greet back, taking a seat across from him.

The waitress is quick to get our orders down and brings us our food right away. I order a pancake with bacon and eggs on the side, and Harry orders two pieces of toast with an omelet.

"So, when are we actually going to look for Zayn's murderer?" I ask as quietly as I can with half a full mouth.

"Once I get enough information about Zayn and who his friends and enemies were." He takes a sip from his coffee, lightly smacking his lips.

"What else do you need to know about Zayn?"

"Not much, just his likes and his dislikes, what he did daily, what he did rarely."

I take another bite of my pancake and sit up in my chair.

"And what about his friends?" I question. "What do you need to know about them?"

"How well they knew him, how often they hung out, just simple stuff."

"Oh," I say and continue eating my pancake.

I enjoy the rest of my pancake before Harry eventually breaks the silence.

"What did Zayn do for a living?" He asks, his mouth full with toast.

"He used to sell his paintings."

"Do you know who he sold them to?"

"No.. well it was a company, but he never gave me a name."

He bites the inside of his cheek, concentration pulling his brows together. "Do you know anyone who had an absolute hate over him."

"Nope." I reply.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. Zayn has never done anything to have himself murdered." I reply honestly.

"Why else would someone want to kill Zayn?"

He has a point.

I sigh. "This is harder than I thought."